on a highway to nowhere
by ShatteredDiamonds
Summary: - "I bite my lower lip to keep from screaming, because sometimes, keeping silent is the hardest thing of all. I want to stop feeling like I'm drowing, like the world's tipping on its axis. I just want my old life back." Freddie x Sam.
1. if only you knew

**Author's Note: **Yeah, another story for me to not finish. It's a bit darker than usual, so beware.

Also, it's a Seddie. Yes, I know that I dislike the pairing. But this… well, it _demanded _to be written.

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"_Friends are just people who haven't fucked you over yet." _

_-------_

I watch her face in the darkness of the night, practically glowing. Her hair cascades down her back. Everything is right.

She turns her head and glares. I put my eyes to the floor.

She knows that this happens. She knows that I stare at her during the night, during the day, anytime. Love has no clock. Love knows no boundaries.

I know that there's a fine line between love and obsession. I don't know which side of that line I'm on. It doesn't matter. I'll still watch her. Always.

She picks up her finger and bites her fingernails. When they come back down to her side, they are bloody. She wipes them on her jeans without a second thought.

I stare at her. She does nothing. Until it gets on her nerves. Finally, she says something about me being a dork and I look down at my hands. I'm nervous now. I always am when I talk to her.

An insult rolls off of my tongue. It feels heavy and bitter, like the cough of a cigarette. It doesn't feel right. I should tell her how much I love her, not how I feel bad for her husband.

She makes another comment and I stay silent. I'm not paying attention to what she's saying. I never do.

Carly wakes up from her spot on the couch and sits up. Her hair is messed up. She smiles weakly before staring at the TV, some random show, before lying back down. Sam makes a comment and my heart jumps.

Sam. What a good name. Don't you agree?

She stares at the screen. I stare at her face. It's a ritual, actually. We do this every time we stay the night at the Shay household. I doubt it bothers any of us. Certainly not me, though.

She looks at me and I sigh.

I wish I had the nerves to say something to her, tell her how I feel. But I know that that's not going to ever happen. I'm safer just staring.

Which is what I do.

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**Author's Note: **No comment.


	2. and he burns like paper

**Author's Note: **Well, my internet is down. So I'm going to write this Seddie story with absolutely no plot in my head _at all. _I'll just write whatever Freddie, the obsessive stalker that he is in this story, tells me to while I snack on my Easter- yes _Easter- _candy.

Note to self: Read the wrappers before throwing them in your mouth. Especially if it's called _sour _candy and Lord knows that I dislike sour.

**Disclaimer: **If I owned _iCarly, _then I'd be producer and Tony would be co-producer and we'd sit over sodas (hey, I'm a kid, I don't like coffee!) and discuss books and femmslash.It'd be awesome!

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"_Nothing is real until it's gone."_

_-------_

The next day, I stare at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes. The sun's barely filtering through the curtains and makes rows of orange light on my comforter.

The overhead fan is on. It's the only sound in the room, with the exception of my harsh breathing.

I blow my hair off of my forehead. I can feel myself coming down from the high, tumbling down faster and faster into reality. The haziness in my brain clears like bright lights of someone's headlights cutting through the fog of the early morning.

I close my eyes and rest my hand against my face. My skin feels warm and sticky. So does my hand.

I grimace and move to wipe my hand off on a discarded towel on the floor, from last night's shower.

If my mom even suspected what I was doing just a few minutes ago… Well, that wouldn't be good. She didn't even think I knew about sex, much less-

Well, it's something that mostly every fifteen-year-old boy does, let's just say that.

When I started doing this, uh… "thing" about a year ago, just for experimenting purposes (I'd heard some boys in my grade talking about it, and thought I'd try it out, especially if it felt as good as they said it did), my mind was always on Carly.

Honestly, I don't know when this changed. Maybe it was a week ago, maybe it was a month ago, maybe nine months. All I knew was that I no longer fantasized about long brown hair and dark eyes, a small lean body. It was now long blonde curls, big blue eyes, and an athletic body hidden underneath baggy clothes.

I close my eyes and listen to the _whip-whip-whip _of the ceiling fan overhead and just focus on the sound, allowing it to lull me to sleep.

I fall asleep with her on my mind.

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**Author's Note: **Well, that managed to make me feel dirty and perverted and like a teenage boy.

…an odd combination, indeed.

Well, now that I've scarred you _and _myself for life, I feel that my duty is done here.

You know the drill, press the pretty purple button and tell me how much I suck!


	3. vodka covered, and so he never loved me

**Author's Note: **Well, I apologize for the late update. No excuse, really.

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"_You see the hate that they servin' on a platter,_

_So what we gonna have, dessert or disaster?"_

_-------_

When I was nine years old, my dad killed himself. It wasn't tragic or anything, he didn't drive drunk and get hit and I didn't watch him die in front of my eyes. He didn't go into a bank and have a shoot out. He didn't slit his wrists in the bathtub and write 'I hate you' on the wall in his own blood.

I don't really know what I'm trying to say here, to tell you the truth. It didn't destroy me or anything.

Sure, I had nightmares and stuff, but I didn't need therapy or anything. All he did was come home drunk and pass out on the couch. We, me and my mom, just kind of pretended that he didn't exist. We pretended we didn't smell the alcohol on his breath when he spoke, eyes bloodshot and face pale as he sat at the table for breakfast the next morning.

He'd hold the newspaper in his hands while they shook and he'd swallow thickly, like he couldn't get the sand out of his throat. He'd sip his juice and then stand up, muttering his goodbyes as he pulled on his coat, giving my mom a light kiss. He'd look at me with something in his eyes, something like sadness or hate or something. He'd get up and go to work and come home drunk.

One day when I came home from school, mom was crying her eyes out. She had his baseball cap clutched tightly against her chest. I just kind of looked at her and dropped my backpack on the floor. She rushed over and hugged me and I just stood there, confused.

She told me that he shot himself. He took the shotgun out of his closet, reserved for deer hunting, and drove out to the field about a quarter of a mile and shot himself.

She just kind of looked at me, ran her eyes over my body, and started crying all over again.

I guess I've never been very good at deciphering looks from adults, 'cause I can never understand what their eyes are telling me.

But, I guess it doesn't matter now.

Anyways, that's when my mom started getting overprotective of me. I guess she thought she'd lose me too if she let me out of her sight. She was married to that man for twelve years, it was impossible for her to not love him.

But that's enough of that, enough bad memories.


	4. listen to my melody

**Author's Note: **Another chapter, huzzah!

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"_You think you're special, you do, _

_I can see it in your eyes_

_I can see it when you laugh at me_

_Look down on me _

_You walk around on me."_

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It's Monday, a new school week, and I'm lying my head on the desk. The fan overhead is pumping out a weak supply of air. Economy is crashing and our school didn't get much money this year. I mean yeah, they're trying their best to do with what they have, but it still sucks.

I pull the collar of my white polo against my skin, pressing my fingertips into my collarbone, hard, to try to keep my mind on task.

It's fifth period, math. Our teacher, Mr. Howard, is at the front of the classroom, yapping away, waving his hands around wildly. Everyone is half asleep because it's almost lunch time and nobody really likes this class.

I glance around me, observing the other kids.

Wendy is playing with her nails, pulling her purple nail polish off with her teeth. Gibby is laying down with his head on the desk, clearly asleep. Drool comes out the side of his ajar mouth and puddles on the table. Carly is twirling a strand of hair and staring at the clock. Sam is drawing something on her notebook, something that looks like a stick figure set on fire.

I stretch out and yawn, muscles cracking and joints popping. I know it sounds gross but it feels really good. My eyes droop and I know I just want to go to sleep, just let my eyes close and daydream of long blonde curls and blue eyes…

The bell rings and kids jump up, slamming their backpacks against their backs hard enough to cause bruises. Mr. Howard collapses in his desk, looking ready to scream. Gibby looks up, dazed, before he wipes his mouth and gathers his stuff.

There's only seventeen kids in our class, and I stop to watch everyone leave the room. Finally, when the last kid, a brunette girl named Nicole, who is a cheerleader, leaves the room, I stand up.

The hallway is empty, because everyone is at lunch. I know that I could get detention if they caught me not at the lunch room, but I can't bring myself to care. All I know is that I want to be able to move on my own, become free.

My mom's always watching, keeping her eyes out for me. She tells me she doesn't want me to get hurt, and I tell her that nothing will hurt me and she gets that look in her eyes, that one that's far away. I wave my hand in front of her face and she snaps out of it and her mouth tightens and she sends me to my room and tells me not to argue.

I never understood adults. Like my dad, who would come home drunk, and pass out on the couch, and my mom would come and peek into my room and lay down with me when she thought I was asleep. She would cry and hold me like a little kid. She would whisper something, but I never could understand what she was saying.

I close my eyes and try to forget the memories. The last time I asked my mom about my dad, she started sobbing and saying she was sorry. That freaked me out so bad that I never asked again.

I rub my hand across my face and walk over to the door. I can feel my blood rushing through my veins and my heart pounding. It feels all too real. I can feel the sunlight on my skin, the smooth glass against my palm. I feel the rush of freedom in the air, inhaling it in me. I am it. It is me.

Oh, how I want it so badly! I can almost taste it in my mouth, being like a bird, spreading my wings, soaring above everything just like-

"Mister Benson!"

I nearly jump out of my skin and turn around. I try to steady my breathing but I can't somehow.

"Y-Yes," I stutter.

"Shouldn't you be at lunch?" The teacher asks. I know it's someone I've seen before but I can't put a face to a name. All I know is that this woman nearly gave me a heart attack.

"Y-Yes ma'am. I was just heading there."

The bell rings, signaling that lunch is over.

The teacher looks over and frowns, her mouth set in a tight line, and shoves a piece of brown hair behind her ear.

I smile weakly and move with the mobs of people back to a place where I really don't want to be.

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**Author's Note: **This may seem slow and just filler stuff, but this all is crucial to the plot later. I just want you to get a look inside his head, get to know who he is, get to relate to him.

And understand why he is the way he is.


	5. rain rain go away

**Author's Note: **Well, I wrote this one day after coming back from marching band practice, and I hated it.

Now that I reread it, it's not so bad…

I hope.

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"_Handful of complaints, but I can't help the fact that everyone can see these scars."_

_-------_

I clutch the wheel of the car, taking in one gulp of fresh air after another, blood pumping, skin sweating. My fingers twitch against the rough texture of the wheel, and I pick up the keys with my right hand, swinging them around in my fingers.

This feels like a giant step for me; a path between child and adulthood. Plugging the key in, a ring of disorderly keys and stupid little girly key chains, would mean that everything in my life would change.

I could do things on my own. I wouldn't have to rely on dear old Mommy to get me around anywhere.

Say that we're out of milk. Hey Freddie, can you go pick up some milk? Yeah, sure, I can take the car instead of walking.

I can feel my heart in my throat, pounding painfully. I try to swallow, but it comes out rough and forced. My hands start to sweat. I take a deep breath and _there it is!_

The car starts smoothly, the engine roaring to life. All my fears dissolve and I'm so happy that I can start bouncing, but I control myself and still my body.

I slowly ease on the gas, pressing it slowly. Nothing happens. I frown and look around.

Then, I notice it. The car's still in park. I laugh weakly, trying to get my nerves to calm down.

"There it is, stupid, just not smart enough to see it."

The only response is my face, staring back at me, through the little mirror thing. It's that black little mirror that you use to see behind you.

My face stares back at me. Brown hair, cut short, pale skin, brown eyes. I frown, my lips pressing into a thin line. It stares back at me for a while, and I try to keep from screaming. I hate mirrors. I don't like seeing that face stare back at me. It's not me.

Or is it?

I turn the mirror away from me, turn the- the- thing away from me.

I close my eyes, drop my head against the steering wheel, and try to breathe. Colors dance behind my closed eyelids and after a few seconds- or is it minutes?- I open them again and stare down at the street. It's dark outside, the clock reading 10:48 in big green letters, like an alarm clock. It's like the same one that Mom and Dad used to have in their room when-

I break off the thought, blowing air through my lips, trying to calm myself.

I turn towards the road, the blinking streetlight, the old newspaper flittering across the street, the sound of music blaring from some apartment.

It's too close in here. Too much time in my head. I need out. Out. It's too closed in. No, no, no.

I take a deep breath, trying not to feel the tears prickling my eyelids, and I flick the switch to the radio. It's on some stupid pop station and Lady Gaga's "LoveGame" fills the room.

I frown at the mention of her riding on a disco shake, shaking my head.

My eyes seemed dry, so I wiped my hand across my face, and sure enough, I didn't feel like crying anymore.

I sigh and stare at the open road ahead of me, and press on the gas.

I start moving, and for once in my life, I feel like I'm actually going somewhere.

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**Author's Note: **Another chapter done, and this is one of the huge turning points in the story, obvious by the story name and summary.


	6. wake me up

**Author's Note: **If this is a little, you know, choppy and kind of all over the place, blame that red-headed boy who makes my world go 'round and makes me want to kill myself sometimes.

(What do you do when you're still madly in love with someone, and they just might be too, but you're too scared, because your heart beats wildly and _oh my gawd _he's so close. Wrestling with someone who makes your heart beat crazily and your hands shake when they're near, is apparently, not the smartest idea.

(Oh gawd, so freaking close, and his _smell and his skin, so close!))_

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"_You're my temporary high."_

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I swipe my tongue over my parched lips, and I try to pump my arms farther. I try to move my legs faster. In. Out. In. Out.

My sneakers pump against the ground, a steady _thump-thump-thump _that bounces off the ground and echoes in my ears over and over again, so loud that I can't hear my heart anymore, beating wildly. I press my fingers against my neck, and yes, it's a little faster than normal, but no, I'm not going to pass out from my heart beating too fast.

She's standing so close to me, her hair tied in a messy ponytail, chest moving up and down as she runs beside me, her sneakers making that same _thump-thump-thump. _Except hers is a little more erratic.

My nerves are on fire, blazing and burning like lava sliding down the sides of Vesuvius as it burns Pompeii to the ground. My heart's pounding like crazy and I just want to scream.

My lungs are on fire too, everything is stretched too tight and I try to breathe through my lips, so freaking dry.

Finally, when I can't take it anymore, I stop and rest my hands against my knees and bend down. I can't breathe and I feel like panicking, because maybe this is how you feel when you're drowning.

I always hated gym. It was sixth period, right after lunch, and it always seemed to get worse and worse as the days go on.

Two kids pass us by, and I stare at the back of the girl's head and I faintly realize that it's Wendy, breathing heavily and laughing at something that the other kid says. I squint my eyes and notice that it's Steven, a kid that she's had a crush on for a while.

"About time," Sam mutters.

I turn my head and stare at her and I have to remember to breathe again, in and out, in and out. Just like that.

Her hair is pulled back, a couple strands pulled back, and she's in a big white t-shirt that probably belonged to her dad, before he shot that girl a while ago and was sent to jail.

He raped that poor girl while he was doped up on drugs. I don't think Sam's ever been the same.

Rape. I turn the word over in my head, mouth it a few times. It taste just like any other word would. Something heavy falls in my chest and I look over at Sam, hands braced against her knees, before she goes to pull at her shorts.

_He didn't do anything to her, _I tell myself, and I know it's true. It does nothing to get that heavy feeling out of the pit of my stomach.

I shake my head and Sam just looks at me for a second, eyes dark and wide, before she turns around and I follow where her eyes go and see Wendy, running with Steven. Her face is glowing.

"About time," Sam says again, before my thoughts grabbed a hold of me like deep water, and pulled me down and drown drown _drowned _me in my own head.

That's kind of how I feel like sometimes. Like I'm drowning and there's no one there to pull me back to the surface. I go under and under until the sun fades away, and I'm surrounded by water on all sides, dark and _there. _But just before I get to the bottom, where my feet can almost reach the floor, something jerks me back up and I'm swimming to the surface, gasping for air while my lungs explode. I'm granted sweet relief for a second before I'm pulled back down.

One of these days, I'm scared that I might not be able to get back up, it'll just be too much, or I won't have the strength to fight anymore. I'll just sink there, eyes heavy, and succumb to whatever it is.

Something cold hits me on the head and I jerk and almost scream.

Sam smirks at me, eyes glittering, (her eyes only do that when she's being mean to me, and I'd gladly take it everyday to see her eyes do that, because in the end, it's all worth it) and waves her half-empty water bottle in front of my eyes.

I lick my lips unconsciously. Something wells up in my stomach, and I'm laughing hysterically.

The next thing I know, tears are prickling my eyelids, and I swallow thickly at the sand that collects in my throat. I blink rapidly to clear my eyes.

She looks at me with wide eyes, hands trembling at her sides.

"Hey, dude, you okay?" She asks and I nod my head like this is nothing abnormal.

"F-Fine," I stutter.

She looks at me for a second, before shaking her head. Thunder sounds above us, and then I notice that it looks like it's going to rain.

And a few seconds later, rain starts coming down from the air. It hits the ground with a quiet noise, and flattens my hair to my forehead. It blinds me for a second.

I stand there as it drenches through my t-shirt, an old white shirt from my dad's job, and it clings to me like a jealous ex-girlfriend (_yeah, because you would know all about that). _I want to stand here forever, let it wash me clean until I don't know where it ends and my tears begin.

This is the perfect time to let my tears free, flow across my cheeks. I have the idea of standing here forever, until she grabs at my wrist, fingers digging into my skin, pulling me towards the gym.

I can feel my feet hitting the ground, but there's no sound, and I feel like I'm floating.

I look over to where Wendy and Steven are running, his sweatshirt pulled above both their heads and they're laughing and she's absolutely glowing. Her hair is sticking to her head, ponytail flat against her head, and their shoulder blades rub every couple of seconds.

I look over at Sam, her fingers closed around my wrist, and I study the side of her face. It looks so close, that I could just reach out and touch her skin, but I dig my nails into my skin until the urge passes.

The next thing I know, we're standing in the gym, and we're both shivering. My shirt feels nonexistent and I'm shaking like a dog.

I look around for Sam, Wendy, anyone that I know. (Carly has a different gym class than us.) There's nobody.

I stand there, lost, shivering, until Sam comes up to me and smacks my shoulder with hers. She hands me a sweatshirt wordlessly, and I put it on without really thinking.

It smells like shampoo and vanilla and fried chicken. I realize that it's Sam, and press it close to me. I stare at the back of her head, blonde curls starting to spring back up.

"This is yours," I say between chattering teeth.

She doesn't even turn around and look as she says, "Yeah, got it out of my locker."

I smile weakly. I lick at my lips again, and then there's a water bottle in my hand, and I'm drinking like I haven't had water in days.

Sam's looking at me with something akin to concern, but I wouldn't know. Her face is blank, but her eyes are sparkling. I rip the drink away from my lips, (although it's kind of hard to) and stare at her.

I can feel my lower lip trembling and I want to say something to her, but my mouth won't work. She just stares at me, her eyes glittering in the florescent lights, and everything fades. The grey walls, the floor that's made of that weird rubbery stuff, the bleachers, kids running around laughing…

And then she's taking the bottle from my fingers, and she won't look at me. I open my mouth to say thank you, but then she turns away and goes to talk to Wendy, who's wrapped up in Steven's sweatshirt. They're standing really close together.

I squeeze my lips together and close my eyes. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I don't know what they are. I know that if I find my voice, I'll say something I'll regret.

I nearly jump out of my skin when someone's touching my shoulder again, a hand pressed against the fabric of the sweatshirt, and then I'm walking.

I don't know what's going on until I open my eyes and see Sam smiling down at the ground, eyes downcast. Her fingers are curled against my shoulders and I'm walking to the bus and then I'm sitting down.

My head falls against the vinyl (or whatever fabric the bus seats are made out of) and close my eyes. I fall asleep to Sam humming some song that I don't know.

"_You could be a sweet dream or a beautiful nightmare, either way I don't want to wake up from you."_

_-------_

**Author's Note: **I had an idea about what this chapter was going to be, but then my brain took off and this came out.

That's when you know you have a real good story. No matter what you plan out, it'll write what it wants.

Lyrics are from Beyonce's "Sweet Dreams."


	7. fall from grace, tumble faster

**Author's Notes: **Freddie and the gang have seven periods each day. School got cancelled the day before from the storm, since that wasn't clear.

And I'm basing their schedule off my own, since it's much easier to remember.

(Except, y'know, they don't have band instead of P.E.)

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"_The truth is blurry but the lies are gettin' clearer."_

_-------_

I have one memory from when I was little, before my dad shot himself.

I'm six years old, and we had just come back from the fair. I'm wrapped up in his sweatshirt, smelling of faded fabric softener and the faint smell of whisky and cologne. I'm halfway asleep, my head against his shoulders, and he's carrying me like a little kid.

(Which, you know, I am, but still.)

He carries me into the house, and lies me down in his bed, and my eyes are halfway closed. I can feel sleep pulling me in, and it smells so good.

Mommy's not here, I don't know where she is, but I'm tired. Daddy's slips his arms around me, and when he presses a kiss against my head, I can smell alcohol and sugar on his breath. He steps out of the room, and moments later, I'm asleep.

I don't know what happened when I woke up, but the next thing I know, Mom's throwing things, my head hurts, and Daddy storms out of the house. She's crying hysterically and gathering me into her arms and I feel bad.

I throw up all over the ground and Mommy starts yelling all over again, crying and screaming and yelling words that I know not to say.

Daddy doesn't come home until the next morning, and he sleeps the whole day, the door locked. Mommy takes me out of the house and makes me sleep over at the neighbors house, an old lady with a bunch of cats. She always talks to herself, and some guy named 'Rich', but I don't see anybody. But that's okay because she gives me ice cream and lets me watch Spongebob.

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Adults are very odd, I've come to learn in my short fifteen years on this Earth. They yell at you for saying something and send you to your room, and then they're throwing things across the room and yelling at their husbands.

I don't bother to even try to understand them.

(It scares me that I might end up like that one day.)

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It's Friday, and it's seventh period. They call it "Basic Skills", but all we really do is sit there, whispering, and doing homework and reading. My teacher for this class always has a stick up his butt, so we know not to say anything loud or he'll go off the deep end.

My head's on my desk and I'm staring out the window, looking over at a bird fluttering his wings, desperate to get off the ground. He can't seem to fly.

I feel like closing my eyes and going to sleep, even though I'm not very tired. I'm just…

I really don't know.

I wrinkle my nose, and glance around the class. Sam's got a book open on her desk, and she's sleeping, snoring loudly. Carly's working on her math homework. Wendy's talking with Steven, and they seem like a couple now. Gibby's rocking out to his Pear Pod. Valerie's…

Eh, I don't even want to know.

I close my eyes and am just about to fall asleep, when the bell rings. Everyone jumps up and runs outside.

Slowly, like an old man, I get up and walk over to my locker, and get out my stuff.

I walk outside, over to where my mom would be waiting, but then stop.

I run back inside, and the next thing I know, I'm sitting on the roof, feet dangling off the edge. All the people and cars look like ants, oh so tiny, running.

I don't know how long I sit there for, just staring, but eventually the sky gets a little darker and the parking lot gets empty.

"Hey, kinda late, dorkwad."I turn around and Sam's leaning against the side of the roof, a hint of a smile on her lips, arms crossed. She's got a red and white checkered jacket on, and her hair's pulled up in a ponytail. Her Converse have Sharpie written all over them and her shorts have holes made in them by what looks like scissors.

She sees me looking at her outfit and shrugs her shoulders. "Bored. Carly's at the dentist and I happened to have a Sharpie and a pair of scissors. Better than what could have happened, right?"

She says this with a little hint of humor and she faintly traces the faded scar on the inside of her wrists.

I shrug, turning back to the parking lot. She just stands there and I turn around and raise my eyebrow at her.

"You know," I say, pulling a loose thread out of my blue American Eagle polo shirt, "you can sit down if you want, I won't bite."

Part of me expects her to say something rude, but she doesn't, only pulls on her hair and sits down next to me. She bumps my shoulder with hers and taps a beat with her fingers, some song going on in her head.

"Your mom didn't have a cow when you didn't go home? What'd you tell her, you needed to pick up some tick bath?" She says with a wide smile, flashing teeth.

My throat feels dry so I swallow and say thickly, "She doesn't know I'm here."

She sobers quickly. "Whatdya mean, she doesn't know you're hear?"

I open my mouth and suddenly I want to spill about what happened so many years ago, what I wasn't supposed to say, but then I see my mom looking at me with that look in her eye and the smell of alcohol attacks my senses and my eyes water and I nearly gag.

_Don't tell anyone, okay? This is our little secret, just between you and me._

I bite down so hard on my lip that the taste of blood attacks my taste buds and I don't know if I want to scream or cry so I settle with turning my back and tugging at my hair.

I can feel her looking at me, can just feel it, that stupid look of pity, and something hot burns in my throat.

_It's okay, Mommy's here, she won't let anything hurt you._

_Do you want to play a game?_

"Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop," I whisper over and over again, try to get the voices to stop, push away the memories that I locked away so long ago.

I clutch my arms around my waist, dig my fingers into my skin, and rock back and forth. Something wet falls on my cheeks and I look up, but it's not raining. Then I realize I'm crying, and I wipe at my face furiously, like I can erase what happened so many years ago.

I hiccup weakly, shake my head. I feel so stupid, crying like this, over nothing.

Sam clears her throat, and I look over at her, eyes swollen and face red. She opens her mouth but shuts it quickly, so fast that I can almost hear that subtle noise from her jaws connecting. Her eyes soften as she just stares at me and I can see that she wants to say something but she doesn't know how to put it.

"Something in my eye," I mutter as I run the back of my hand over my eyes, and she laughs weakly.

"You alright?" she asks and I try my hardest to smile, I swear I do, but I can feel my lower lip quiver and tears run down over my lower lids. I lick around my mouth, get the salty taste in my mouth, and press my teeth against my lips, tear the skin carefully.

Have you ever been torn between something, wanting to say something so much that it physically hurts, but you can't? That's how I feel.

I can't say anything, because then everything, _everything _will change and it makes me want to cry and scream at the same time.

A hiccupy-sob escapes my mouth and my shoulders start to shake and I close my eyes because this might be the worst moment of my life, my entire life.

I don't want to cry in front of her, because I'm a fifteen-year-old teenage boy, and I don't cry about what happened in-

No, no.

I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for her to laugh and say something stupid, but then her hand slides over my arm and I tense up, waiting for her to say or do something. It suddenly occurs to me that I'm sitting on top of the school roof, no one knows where I am, and I'm crying. She could simply 'push' me off and I'd fall, and no one would ever know anything.

Her hand slides around my back and the next thing I know, I'm clutching at her jacket. Her hands are sliding up and down my back, and she's kind of tense, like she doesn't know what she's doing. My face is pressed against her neck, and I'm crying like there's no tomorrow.

"Tell me," she whispers into my hair.

"I-I can't," I stutter because it occurs to me she's the one comforting me. I was always the weak one out of this. My heart slides up my throat and I try to get it back down to my chest, but it ends up in my stomach and I feel sick all of the sudden.

_This is our little secret, right, beautiful boy?_

I can hear the voice so clearly…

Memories flood my mind, a few scattered ones, and bile rises in my throat.

I shove Sam off of me, and she just sits there, eyes wide, confused. She blinks and I wrap my arms around my knees, rocking back and forth, muttering, "No, no, no, no, no, no, no," over and over again.

I stand up on legs made of rubber and stumble a bit. I fall over once and get back up, ignoring the stinging in my knees.

She stands up, blue eyes wide, and she just kinds of looked at me, shocked, like she doesn't know what to do.

I turn and run, climbing down the stairs, and it's a miracle I don't trip. I run and run, even as she calls my name.

"Freddie," she yells, but it falls on deaf ears.

-------

**Author's Note: **Review, please?

(Love never fades does it, because you won't stay off my mind, and I don't know what to do anymore. You make life so confusing.)


	8. love you, hate you, break you

**Author's Note:** Yeah, I had to change the summary, sorry about that. But it had to be 'appropriate'.

I changed this, because I have no idea why it went all bold on me.

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"_L-O-V-E's just another word I never learned how to pronounce."_

_-------_

I'm laying in the bathtub, my head low enough so that all I can hear is the splashing of the water as I move my hands through once, twice.

The water had gone cold about half an hour ago, and I'm almost to the point of shivering. My hands are like grapes laying out in the sun too long, and I'm ready to fall asleep.

Dishes are stacked up in the sink, because I was supposed to do them when I got home from school.

I ran off after the roof scene, running until my eyes were stinging with sweat and the reminiscence of tears. I didn't ever think that my lungs would be the same again.

When I could finally breathe, I saw that I was standing in front of the apartment buildings. The sky was dark and I could see lights turned off in the rooms with the shades not drawn up.

Streetlights had made the street seem unreal I could feel my heart pounding, my stomach tossing painfully, and I was shaking.

When I finally had got to our room, I could hear screaming in the apartment. The world seemed to be spinning on its axis because even if you held a gun to my head, I didn't think I could stand remotely still.

I grasped the doorknob, opened the door, and braced myself for hell.

When I opened the door, I could see my mom ready to kill me. She screamed for a minute, cussed, then looked at me worriedly, before breaking down crying, saying "sorry" over and over again.

I wanted to be sick, throw up my lunch all over the floor because of the memories it brought up.

"Go take a bath," she said when she had calmed down, pressing a tissue to her eyes. She wouldn't even look at me.

I had already took one that morning, but I knew it didn't matter to her. I gathered my clothes from my room, and let the bathtub run on the hottest it could go and sit in, ignoring my body's call for it.

I could almost feel my skin scalding off my body, but it kept my mind off of other things, and that was the most I could ask for.

But eventually, after two and a half hours, it got very cold and here I was, the water no longer keeping my mind at bay.

I felt like sleeping, I really did, but I didn't want to. Couldn't.

I lifted my head out of the water, running my fingers through my hair. I washed my body, then my hair, and stood up, letting the water out.

I stood there a minute, undressed, shaking, staring at the water running down the drain. It had been so quiet in the bathroom for so long, I didn't know what to do with the drain sucking the water up hungrily. I felt like closing my ears, but I dug my fingernails into my hands until the urge passed.

Finally, I walked over to the counter, grabbed my towel, and started drying off my hair.

There was a mirror above the sink, and I just happened to be standing in the wrong spot so all I could see was damp hair, pale skin, haunted eyes, and a face that looked confused and angry and scared.

I wanted to punch the mirror, make it so I didn't see that sight, but I was frozen in spot.

I could see the scar running along my chest, from my collarbone to my shoulder, and I felt like shuddering, because I had never someone so angry.

_You little bitch! Had to take everything else from me, didn't you? _

Then breaking glass, and pain, and I was crying, and she was just staring at me, hands clenched tight. The floor was cold and I had never been in so much pain, even when-

No. No, no, no, _nononononono!_

I wanted to open my mouth, scream the words back at her that she said, burned into my brain because who could forget something like that?

_I didn't mean to, Mommy! I didn't know!_

_Stop, _I tell myself while my reflection seems to smile at me, seducing me to go back, go back to that night, those days, when everything was so wrong, so wrong, but I didn't know Mommy, I didn't know!

My eyes burn but I refuse to cry, so I just shrug into my clothes, breaking my eyes away from the brown-eyed boy who looks so broken, and clean up the bathroom. I head into my bedroom and fall asleep with the door open.

I don't dream that night.

-------

Mom had finally let me get a cell phone last year, when she realized she couldn't keep an eye on me 24-7, so she made it so she could.

At around five in the morning, when I'm still floating into darkness, sweet sweet nothingness, music wakes me up.

"_But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo, what the hell am I doin' here?"_

Sam had programmed that as my ring tone one day when I wasn't looking, and I hadn't bothered to change it back.

I dig around my room, find it under my bed, and stare at the screen.

_One New Text Message from Sam the Awesome _flashes across the screen and I run my fingers across my face, think briefly about not answering, but then I think better of it.

_Hey, _it reads, _u ok?_

_Yea, _I text back. _y?_

_Just wndering. _

My mind wanders back to the rooftop, and I throw the phone across the room, where it bounces off the wall, battery sliding across the floor, and go back to sleep.

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That morning, I wake up to the smell of pancakes wafting through the room. I stare at the ceiling for a minute, thinking about what it could mean, since Mom never cooks.

After about ten minutes, I finally get up and pull on a clean shirt, a pair of jeans, and wander towards the bathroom with my bare feet sliding across the wood.

I brush my teeth, run my fingers through my hair, and sit down at the table.

Mom's standing there in a white apron, singing along to some country song on the radio. She sees me and smiles, eyes bright and scared and confused and so many other emotions that make my head hurt. I look away.

"Hey, sleepyhead," she says, coming to kiss the top of my head.

This is how it always is. She freaks out one night, yelling and screaming and occasionally throwing things, and the next morning she's all smiles and everything. I think she feels guilty afterwards.

I grunt in response, and grab a plate of pancakes and dig in.

We sit in silence for a while before she looks at me. I look over at her and her smile wavers for a second before she rips off her apron and she's in a suit.

Figures. She's got to go to the office today.

She's a consultant at a law firm. What that means, I really don't know.

(Which, you know, explains why she clashes with Spencer so much. She loves her job so much, she doesn't know why anyone would give it up willingly.)

"I have to go-""-to the office today," I finish for her.

She smiles tightly, all lines around her mouth and forced happiness and nods her head, kisses me, gives me the once over and leaves.

The room is silent after that and I decide that moment that I'm going to go to the park, even if it's across town and it's a Saturday morning.

I'm also grounded, but what she doesn't know won't hurt her.

-------

I knock on Carly's door at around eleven thirty and she answers with sleep-mused hair and a fake smile.

I ask her if she wants to go to the park and she says no, sorry, got to help Spencer.

"Where's Sam?" I ask her and her face flashes confusion before it goes back to normal.

"She has to go with her mom to her parole meeting, she'll be back later."I say goodbye and close the door.

-------

The park is relatively quiet today, as expected on a Saturday afternoon.

It's about one by the time I get there, but it takes a while to walk there.

I just lay down on a bench, throw my hands over my eyes, and doze off.

I don't dream.

-------

I open my eyes and the suns bright, shining, and all of the sudden I just want to block out the sun.

I sit up and rub at my eyes. People are giving me weird looks, but I've never really cared what they think because I know that it doesn't matter.

I look down at my arms, expecting there to be a tattoo of 'freak' there, or all my secrets exposed, because it feels like the whole world knows my secret, my dirt little secret.

I feel like crying, because I don't even know it.

_Close your eyes, and we'll play a game. It'll be fun!_

I close my eyes and sink further into the bench covering my eyes, while my soul is laid out in front of everyone, exposing old scars and cuts and _that secret _bubbling under my skin.

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**Author's Notes: **I swear, he's breaking my heart. I still like(love) him, he still likes me, and he thinks about asking out some other girl who will only break his heart.

(I can still feel my heartbeat banging in my chest when he explained who he would go out with, and my throat closing up when the word coming out of his mouth was 'Alyssa.' I felt like screaming.)


End file.
